


Monstrous

by Vector



Category: Bleach
Genre: Dubious Consent, F/M, Stockholm Syndrome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-02-16
Updated: 2008-02-16
Packaged: 2017-10-02 16:06:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vector/pseuds/Vector
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ulquiorra is - he's not monstrous, like some of the others, not imposing in that way, but his power presses at her, like a gloved hand over her mouth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Monstrous

"I see you've eaten," Ulquiorra says to Orihime's back.

And she has, to an extent. She'd picked tiny pieces of food apart with her hands, and eventually she'd managed to force most of it past the tightness of her throat. It had given her something to try to focus on that wasn't everyone getting hurt while she's stuck here, doing nothing.

It hasn't really helped. Her stomach is turning queasily.

Ulquiorra gestures and another Arrancar comes in to wheel the food cart away. As the servant passes the door, Ulquiorra turns as if to leave without further comment.

"I believe in them." Orihime says, and he glances back over his shoulder, face expressionless. "They're not dead and they're not going to be. They _will_ make it out of this alive." She tries to force confidence aloud, but her voice breaks slightly on the words.

Ulquiorra turns to face her entirely, and Orihime strides over to stand right in front of him. She narrows her eyes, and if that presses moisture out of them it isn't because she's _sad_. Frustrated, maybe. Angry. "And you're a horrible person if you think there's any way I could give up on them."

Ulquiorra's expression doesn't shift. "Close the door," he instructs the guards outside. "We need to have a talk." The solid door slides ponderously closed.

Orihime tries not to shake. Ulquiorra is — he's not monstrous, like some of the others, not imposing in that way, but his power presses at her, like a gloved hand over her mouth. He could kill her. She can only believe he won't.

"You're a disgrace." He says flatly. "I thought you were smarter than your friends. Can't you see how they've betrayed you? They've made your decision to save their lives _pointless_. In Hueco Mundo, they are nothing, and they will be killed."

"You're the disgrace," Orihime responds, and if her voice shakes and quivers all over the words, at least she manages to say them. "You have no concept of caring and trust. You're as terrible as the rest of them."

Ulquiorra reaches up to grip her jaw, squeezing it to the point of pain. "I can't imagine why you thought otherwise."

Then he releases her and makes a sweeping motion with his arm, and she stumbles back, falling to a crouch by the room's couch that she has yet to sit on. Ulquiorra follows, one hand still in his pockets, and then he grabs her clothes by the neck and drags her up to throw her on the cushions.

She just pulls herself upright and glares at him. "What are you going to do?"

That causes a flash of _something_ in Ulquiorra's eyes, which is more than she's seen so far. "Fool girl. I can do anything I want to you."

He makes the point by releasing the fabric to run a hand hard and carelessly over her body — throat, breasts, stomach, thigh — and she doesn't _want_ to react to that — a touch like that after hours sitting in here, hyper-alert and alone — but she does. She chokes back a low whimper. She can feel her face getting hot, even though blushing feels like as wrong a reaction as her earlier tears. His power still presses at her, almost like a solid thing.

"Hmm," Ulquiorra says, and something crosses his face — something like an expression, something like interest — and he reaches for her with both hands.

He knows the clothes he gave her better than she does, and after a few catches are undone she's bare to her own underwear and panties.

"Ridiculous fragile human," he says, hooking two fingers under the top of her panties. Then he pulls, and the fabric rips like it's made of tissue. He presses his fingers down to slide between her folds. She gasps.

He probably wouldn't kill her if she told him to stop. He'd insult her and he might hurt her, but she's pretty sure Aizen would really like her alive.

She still doesn't say anything.

"So weak," he says, but he's reaching for his own clothing. He pulls his zipper - past the hole in his neck, which makes her muscles jump — all the way down, opening his tunic to bare the pale skin of his chest. Then he pushes his pants down as he shoves her back, moves on top of her. She tries to ignore the fact that she instinctively spreads her legs wider to allow him.

It doesn't hurt much when he pushes in. She'd thought it would hurt more. But it's mostly just uncomfortable, as he shifts inside her. She splays a hand on his chest and digs her fingernails into skin she probably couldn't mark even if she had a sword.

He just snorts and thrusts into her harder, and that forces a small note of pain out of her but it also… hits something, feels different.

A few more thrusts and the feeling builds to be unmissable — like a firm massage, only focused, the sensation building and climbing up her spine from the inside. It's still uncomfortable, but there's something like — if — just —

She's so focused on trying to break apart the feeling that she almost misses it when Ulquiorra's breath catches and his eyes close briefly.

He stills inside her. After a moment she realizes that he must have — he must have finished. And yes, after a moment he pulls completely out.

Ulquiorra stands, wipes himself off with the torn fabric left from her panties, pulls up his waistband and rezips his tunic. She doesn't meet his eyes. Instead she tries to gather her thoughts back together, but she feels empty, sore but somehow still _wanting_. Ulquiorra just walks away.

"You're not a brute like the others," Orihime says as he reaches the door, not bothering to try to put her clothes back together before he leaves. He doesn't retort, and that gives her a brief flash of triumph.

Then the door sliding closed brings the despair crashing back.


End file.
